


A Different Road

by fivethingsunmixed



Series: Dark Justice AU [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Villain Phantom Thieves, Canonical Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivethingsunmixed/pseuds/fivethingsunmixed
Summary: No Personas, no Palaces, no Treasure; but there’s still evildoers out there, and still hearts to be changed...or stolen. A darker look at what the Thieves could have been in a world that pushed them too far. Violence, evil!Phantoms, good!Akechi. No character bashing.





	A Different Road

**Victim 1: Kamoshida**

“We need to do this in a way where there can’t possibly be any blame linked to us,” says Akira, slowly peeling an orange, feet propped up on a desk. Ryuji makes a dissatisfied noise.

“What’s the fun in that?!” he demands, and there’s a look in his eyes Akira hasn’t seen before, something on the edge of violence. Akira smiles slightly in response.

“How about _not_ going to jail?” retorts Ann. The cat that arrived with Akira and has stuck with him since day one is sleeping in the sun, fur glossy and neat, and Ann, despite the tension in her words, lightly scratches the cat’s neck.

Akira starts slowly slicing up the orange, passing segments to Ryuji behind him without looking and eating the flesh while looking at Ann with a thoughtful look on his face.

“...does Kamoshida have files on you?”

Ann looks at him, then grins wickedly, and takes an orange slice.

 

**i. Lust**

The first thing that struck Sae Nijima upon entering the crime scene was the smell. Blood, and organs. It made her wince and sternly command her stomach to behave.

Inside Kamoshida’s bedroom, she found the man himself, strung up by his wrists at his bed, like some sort of demented Christ-figure. His Olympic medal was strung around his neck, and he wore a paper crown upon his head at a jaunty angle; if she were in a mood to laugh, she might have found it morbidly amusing. She started noting mechanically other details; slit throat, slit wrists, and his chest opened up and ribs broken like a series of wonky piano keys. The lungs were grey; he’s been dead for some time, and the heart was missing.

“Where…” she swallowed hard. “Where is the heart?”

“On the bed,” said a voice behind her that quavered a little. She turned; it’s Goro Akechi, pale almost to the point of grayness. Another day, part of her might have been overjoyed to see Akechi looking so grim. Today, she reached out to take his hand and squeeze it, and saw his eyes were liquid. Still such a child.

On the bed indeed was the heart, and it had a message written on the sheets in blood:

“ _Kamoshida, the most vile beast of lust; we have curbed his lust by stealing his heart. Let other evildoers beware!_

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart.”_

At the bottom, untouched by the gore, was a single manilla folder. It was distressingly thick.

Sae carefully picked it up, opened it, and tried to swallow her bile.

Photo upon photo of the girls locker room, filled with the volleyball team. Progress reports on the both volleyball teams. Dates Kamoshida notes ‘detentions’ or ‘punishments’ cross-referenced with the student’s GPs notes on said injuries, revealing his punishments to be nothing short of torture. Sworn testimony from the now-disbanded track team of what went down between him and Ryuji Sakamoto. Photos of Shiho Suzui’s suicide, and a witness account from a student signed Yuuki Mishima regarding his treatment of her. The amount of information gathered was staggering, and pointed to over a decade of abuse, and furthermore, abuse that the teachers at the school had to have been aware of.

“How was this accomplished?” she asked.

“Either the perpetrators were teachers at Shujin or students at Shujin,” guessed Goro. Sae nodded and handed the file to the police, “We should start a full wide-scale investigation of the whole school, starting with his victims and close associates, particularly the names mentioned here.”

Sae ran a hand through her hair, staring at Kamoshida. She noted one last thing; whoever was here wired Kamoshida’s lips up so that he was grinning, but did it in such a way that the grin looked morbid, frightened even.

She shivered, and left.

 

**Victim 2: Madarame**

“That was the manner in which you left the body?” asks Yusuke, reclining gracefully. The cat sits on his lap. His black fur seems to have gained a hint of red but - no, it’s just Akira’s imagination.

“Yup,” Ryuji grins. Ryuji doesn’t seem to laugh much, just low, dark chuckles, and his shirts are darker these days. He’s talking about wearing a leather jacket.

“Neat, huh?” Ann seems less a bubble of excitement, calmer, but no less energetic. Rather, she seems to be energy under tight control, waiting for a moment to burst out. Her shirts have gotten lower cuts, and her modelling agency has commented on the new, sexy tone she’s started taking.

“How...gauche.”

Ann and Ryuji both start, but Akira grins.

“You have an idea? We could always use...a bit of artistry?”

“Hm...let me consider this.”

-

“There’s something strange about the Sayuri,” says Ann, considering it in an art book.

“What do you mean?” asks Yusuke.

“What’s she looking at?”

“Nobody knows. It’s the great mystery.”

“But then why have her look down?”

Akira leans over to consider the blue mist around the bottom.

“It is an odd choice.”

“Maybe we should steal it?” says Ryuji, boredly lounging on the floor. Everyone stares at him and he twists to return the gaze, “Well, ain’t there some way to tell what’s at the bottom of a piece of art?”

“Yes,” says Yusuke, voice still registering his surprise, “Uh, any basic x-ray will…”

“Cool! We do that.”

 

**ii. Vanity**

The smell of blood was stronger here.

Madarame’s atelier seemed to glow blood red even behind Sae’s closed eyes. She winced a little, and went in, ignoring the stench.

In Madarame’s studio, Madarame had been arranged as if he had been committing seppeku, on his knees, bent over. His hands had been removed, blood framing them on the floor. His eyes too were removed, also framed by blood. And again, his heart sat on the floor beneath him in a frame of blood, as if he had vomited it out.

Behind him sat the “Sayuri”, with one difference.

“Good god!” cried out Sae.

The blue mist had been removed, revealing that the woman held a babe in her arms, and looked down on him lovingly. Beneath it sat a tape recorder. In elegant script, it read:

_Madarame, villain of vanity, has been purged. His crimes laid bare in his own voice for all to hear. More hearts shall be purged, more villains crimes laid witness!_

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

It took all Sae’s will not to throw the recorder against the wall.

Instead she hit play.

Five minutes later she snarled, angrily, and handed it to Goro, before storming out.

 

**Victim 3: Kaneshiro**

The cat has picked up notches in it’s ears. Has it been getting into fights?

“If _I_ was able to figure out who you are then _clearly_ you need my help,” Makoto informs them.

“And if we do not desire your help?” Yusuke’s voice has grown colder recently. He’s taken to sitting on wall, lounging like the kitsune he so resembles. As raggedy as his clothes become, he still looks elegant and handsome.

“Yeah, Miss Prez,” sneers Ryuji. He’s picked up a leather jacket. At Yusuke’s insistence, he’s added a red tie. The result is rather intimidating. Both have stopped attending school, “We don’t _need_ goody-two-shoes.”

Ann sits at the base of Akira’s feet, curled up with the cat. She’s getting more and more like a cat these days. Her clothes are getting tighter as well.

Akira is the only one unchanged, though Yusuke and Ann keep threatening to take him shopping. Both are insistent he need to dress more roguishly.

“And if I said I had a new target for you?”

The air instantly changes. Makoto becomes aware of the feeling that she is the target of the gaze of four hungry hyenas. There is something in all their eyes that is wild - and not quite sane.

“Then you’re in,” says Akira softly, “But you know what we do, right?”

Makoto meets his dark eyes, and feels her own sanity give way.

“Sure,” she says softly. “Let’s do this.”

 

**iii. Gluttony**

“Well, at least know _one_ thing about the Phantom Thieves,” sighed Goro as he rubbed the back of his neck and scowled.

“What’s that?” asked Sae, staring around the carnage in horror.

“A mixed blessing,” said Goro with irritation, “They’re _recruiting_.”

“ _What_?” said Sae.

“Each of their crimes is getting steadily bigger. Which means, logically, that each of their crimes requires more people. Which means, logically, that with each of their crimes, _they are recruiting_. I wish I was old enough to drink, I could really use something to numb the pain of this damn case.”

“I’ll get you some beer on the way home.”

“You’re an angel,” he was so tired it didn’t even sound like flirtation, just exhausted habit.

An anonymous tip had been dropped off at the police station by one of the members of the Phandom - they actually had _fans_ , of all goddamn things - and when they’d ended up here, not only had they found all of Kaneshiro’s men dead with head wounds, they’d found Kaneshiro, shot through both eyes, on his back on a table, with his chest splayed open and heart missing. Yet again, the heart was on display; a briefcase on the floor held a full three hundred million yen, with the heart dropped on top. To make matters worse, when they looked closer, they found the yen inside were fake; the Phantom Thieves had made off with the real ones.

The calling card was not written in blood this time, but spray painted on the nightclub walls:

_Kaneshiro, who gorges himself on gluttony by feeding on the weak and helpless, we have forever ended the gluttony of him and his gang by stealing his heart; let this be a warning to those who would prey on children: we will steal your heart and that which is most dear to you._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

“The Kaneshiro case!” snarled Sae.

 

**Victim 4: Medjed**

“Hm,” says Ann, “some hacker group are demanding that we cease murdering people.”

“Is that so?” asks Akira. Ann is at his feet again today, and he is idly toying with a strand of her hair in his fingers as they sit in the attic above LeBlanc. The cat is prowling, as if anxious; it’s tail now has a kink in it, as if it were broken somewhere.

“What reason are they giving?” asks Yusuke from his position gazing out the window. He’s taken to wearing a lot of blue, a decision Akira approves of; the funds from Kaneshiro went towards getting him a new apartment, and new clothes. He looks striking in all blue. As if feeling Akira’s eyes on him, he turns and gives Akira a smile. Yusuke smiles but rarely these days; despite the slight predatory gleam in it, it makes Akira happy to see it.

“Some bullshit,” says Ryuji. He’s shirtless and effortlessly doing chin ups from the ceiling beams while Makoto spots him.

Makoto, on the outside, appears unchanged. She still lives with her sister, still goes to school, still attends student council meetings. But when she joins them, she wears blacks and navies and leathers, and her face is as cold and unreadable as iron.

“Our justice is unworthy,” sneers Ann. She’s wearing red today. It looks good. Akira makes a note to tell her so.

“Ain’t they threatening somethin’?” demands Ryuji, dropping down. Makoto throws a towel at him, and with a shrug, Ryuji dries off, raising eyebrows at Akira, who grins back.

“To steal something from Tokyo or whatever. I got bored reading.”

“Hm. Well, that’s no good. Sounds like they’re purveyors of wrath,” says Makoto.

“Ah,” says Akira, letting go of Ann’s hair and leaning back, “Sounds like you want to deal out justice to them.”

At once, all of their phones go off.

 _I can help you with that_.

_On one condition._

_You kill me_.

The five exchange glances, and Akira responds to the strange text.

_Why would we want to kill you?_

The response is immediate.

 _I killed my mother_.

There is a shocked look, and Akira considers before smiling.

_On the contrary, I think someone like you would make a perfect addition to our group…?_

There is silence for a long moment, and then Yusuke comments, idly, “I think our new recruit wants to come in.”

“What do you mean?” asks Makoto.

“Well, she’s standing on the roof, glaring at me.”

Akira grins.

 

**iv. Sloth**

Sae had not yet received a phone call from the police, so she _thought_ the day was going pretty well.

That was until, walking through the Central Station Square, every television screen - from the large scale ones on buildings to the ones in television stores - crackled and suddenly showed an image of a top hat with smoke, with the words ‘TAKE YOUR HEART’.

“Oh no,” she whispered.

In black and red, words appeared:

_MEDJED, slothful purveyors of false justice, who would take out your problems with the Phantom Thieves on the peoples of Tokyo, know this: your website is permanently offline. Know this also: YOU HAVE BEEN DOXXED._

_We will let the people of Tokyo, those you threatened, decide how they wish to pursue justice._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves_.

Then, a series of names, photos and addresses flashed on screen permanently.

“Oh dear god,” uttered Sae, suddenly horrified. Her phone immediately went off. It was Goro.

“Sae-san, did you see?” he asked, his voice shaking, with fear or rage she couldn’t tell.

“Yes, I...I did.”

“I’ve already spoken to the police, but we need to move fast; there are already reports of mobs outside those people’s apartment buildings. We need to get them into protective custody as soon as humanly possible.”

The screen then changed, revealing new names. Then again. Then _again_. Sae suddenly realized something truly awful.

“What if they’re not all Medjed members? What if some of them are just petty crooks the Phantom Thieves are getting rid of this way in order to make life difficult for us?”

“Or what if some of them are fake names that are getting screened here and the real names are getting shown to the Phandom? That had also occurred to me. Unfortunately, at the moment, the Phansite has become locked to me; I’m not sure what they’ve done, but I can’t access it, which makes me think you’re right.”

“God _damn_ it! This is going to be a bloodbath!”

-

Twenty-four hours later, Sae Nijima wearily reflected that she had been right. And she was getting utterly, utterly sick of the Phantom Thieves being a step ahead of her.

 

**Victim 5: Okumura**

“I still can’t believe I let you talk me into wearing this,” comments Akira idly as they walk down the streets of Shibuya.

“You cut quite a figure,” says Yusuke, with as much fondness as he ever says anything.

“He’s right, man,” grins Ryuji, “Waistcoats suit you. Make you look uh...Queen, what’s the word?”

“Urgh, I wish you wouldn’t call me that. And I think the word you’re looking for is ‘dapper’.”

“Yup, that’s it.”

The cat’s fur is matted now, as if it has clumps of blood in it. It’s also looking less like a housecat, though Akira can’t put his finger on what it is about it that is making him think that.

“Let go of me!”

The voice is delicate, feminine, gentle - all six heads turn as if they were needles on a compass, and immediately charge toward it, spotting a tiny girl wrestling her arm away from a man in a white suit.

“Let go of her!” snarls Ryuji, stepping forward. The man looks up and instantly lets go. Futaba, who has taken to wearing a toolbelt of high-tech gadgets of her own design, steps up next to the girl, takes her arm, and then nods - nothing damaged - before letting go, shivering. Akira wonders if Futaba will ever be able to be close to another, truly.

“What manner of monster are you, to assault an unwilling woman?” snarls Yusuke.

“Her fiance,” replies the man, in a tone so snotty Akira has to resist the urge not to punch his lights out. The girl is still on her knees, fists clenched.

“Get out of our sights,” says Akira, his tone almost velvety with threat, and the man flees.

“Thank you,” says the girl.

“You’re a Shujin student, correct?” asks Makoto in a clipped tone.

“Yes, third year, Haru Okumura,” and her voice is dull with despair.

“Why are you marrying him?” asks Ann. She sighs.

“My father needs him to become a politician.”

Akira considers her, before kneeling down next to her.

“How badly do you want it to go away?” he asks.

Haru looks up at him, and he takes her chin and tilts it up, just a bit, to look deeply into her eyes.

“What would you be willing to do…” he asks, ever so gently, “...to be free?”

She sobs then. And when she’s done sobbing, she goes back with them, to help them plan.

 

**v. Greed**

“We need to stop meeting like this, Sae-san,” said Goro wearily, “People will start to talk.”

“That almost sounded like a joke,” replied Sae, attempting humor and failing miserably.

“Well, I need one.”

The crime scene this time was puzzling. Two corpses; a handsome man in a white suit, his hands removed at the wrists, and judging by the blood stains on his suit, his genitals either removed or slashed at, and his heart not removed, but punctured. At his feet was a calling card that read:

_Sugimura, disgusting pig who uses women and throws them away, your heart is too tainted for even us to take; let this be a warning to those who would take women against their will; we will always stand by the victim._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

On the other side of the room was Kunikazu Okumura. His appearance was a lot less noteworthy than others; he sat on an office chair; his hands were tied behind his back, and his ankles tied together. Other than that, his throat was cut, and his heart removed and hung from the ceiling. The calling card on his lap read:

_Kunikazu Okumura, demon of greed, who values nothing and nobody in the world so much as wealth, we have stolen your heart to prevent you damaging and harming others further with your lack of respect. Let this be a warning to those who would view others as fuel to their ambitions and greed: we will seek you out and destroy you._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

“Curious, isn’t it? How Okumura is positioned opposite Sugimara?” said Goro.

“What do you mean?” asked Sae. Goro had that _look_ again, as if he’d figured something out.

“Well...I mean, it’s almost like they were using Sugimara’s death to frighten Okumara. As if they really didn’t _want_ to kill Okumura. I mean, the other murders had an almost atavistic _joy_ to how they were laid out. They were hideous, but there was something artistic about them, like they were enjoying what they were doing. Sugimara’s murder has that, but Okumara’s doesn’t. They didn’t _want_ to kill Okumura, but something about Okumura gave them no choice.”

“Huh,” said Sae, looking at the crime scene from new eyes, “Now that you mention it, in all the other crime scenes, they tried to provide evidence that what they were saying was true. There’s none of that here. It’s as if they just assume we’ll take them at their word.”

“Or with the previous killings, there was a point to prove. Consider: Kaneshiro also had no evidence given, but we were already investigating him, meaning one of them must have ties to the police, to know there was no need for evidence. One of them must have had ties to Medjed, in order to figure out who Medjed were. Okumura is famously guilty of corruption, but to have such an in depth knowledge of his ambitions, one of them must be tied to the Okumura Corporation. As for the other evidence, both Kamoshida and Madarame were given evidence because otherwise they would have been considered martyrs of their respective professions.”

“Hm,” Sae pulled her lower lip in thought, “That all makes far too much sense. Any ideas who they’ll go after next, Akechi-kun?”

Goro thought for a second.

“There are two options. If they _do_ have the ties to the police I suspect...it’ll probably be either you or me.”

“Those are the two options?”

“No, that’s merely the first option. The second option is to go after a much bigger target, someone in an entirely different arena who has publicly denounced them and may have skeletons in his closet of a different variety entirely…”

Sae swore.

“Prime Ministerial Candidate Shido!”

Goro sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I suspect we should both be very careful and recommend that Candidate Shido increase his protection quite a large amount.”

“He’s not going to listen,” snapped Sae, “That man has said utterly vile things to me.”

“And no one believed you because of how he presents himself in public,” said Goro sadly. “I know.”

There was a quiet lull as they looked around the scene.

“So,” said Goro, brightly, “Can I invite you over for dinner and a drink?”

Sae glared at him.

 

**Victim 6: Sae Nijima**

“I think my sister is getting onto us,” says Makoto, punching into the bag Ryuji holds for her.

“More fool her, then,” sighs Yusuke as he delicately sharpens his katana. The cat sits on Akira’s bed - is it just the light, or do it’s claws look longer, sharper, more deadly? Just the light, he’s sure.

“I’d rather not kill her,” says Makoto.

“Why?” asks Haru delicately, as she sips tea. Akira is fairly certain it’s a ring of roses around the edge of the cup, but it looks more like bloodstains. Haru catches him looking and the smile she gives looks more like a wicked smirk. It looks good on her.

“Useful,” says Futaba as she rewires a computer, “Casts too much suspicion on us if Makoto’s sister dies. Besides, that’s our major link into the police.”

“Won’t it cast suspicion if she doesn’t die, though?” asks Ann, “You said yourself, she thinks she’s next on our list.”

“Ain’t there some way we can...I dunno. Incapacitate her without killin’ her?” asks Ryuji. Makoto thinks. Akira smiles at her, and stands up to get rest his hands on Haru’s shoulders. Ann on the bed smiles at both of them fondly, curled up in her red biker leathers. Yusuke pauses to admire her. Ryuji and Makoto slow, look around and then look warmly at each other. Even Futaba, distant as she is, feels the warmth in the room, and rolls her shoulders, and basks in it.

 _This is my family,_ thinks Akira, _we’re broken, and busted and none of us are sane. But I cannot let anybody touch it_.

“What evidence,” he asks, “ _theoretically speaking_...would it take for the police to dismiss Sae Nijima from this investigation? And possibly even Goro Akechi, if we could manage it?”

“If it doesn’t exist,” says Futaba, “I’ll make it. Come on Inari, let’s get to work.”

“Why is it always me?” asks Yusuke.

“Cos you’re the prettiest and you don’t get all touchy-feely like Akira. Now come on!”

 

**vi. Envy**

“You wanted to see me, sir?” says Sae. The SIU Director looked incredibly solemn.

“Ah, Nijima-san. You’ve been working the Phantom Thieves case, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m relieving you of it.”

“...what? Sir, you can’t…”

“This came in my email inbox this morning. It came to me, but it is addressed to _you_.”

The email read:

_Sae Nijima, who envies our justice, know that we respect you as a rival, but that for your sin of envy, we will take not your heart, but your justice._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

Beneath it were a series of mp3 files. The SIU Director steepled his fingers.

“Now, Nijima-san...this is not just about the Phantom Thieves. Some of these files are very...distressing. To me, personally. That you would threaten a man with a charge of abuse with no proof, just to get evidence. That you would speak ill of a prime ministerial candidate. And I don’t think I need to speak of your relationship with Akechi-kun.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Sae coldly.

“There is video evidence of him leaving your house late at night. I can put two and two together, Nijima-san.”

“We were working on the case!”

“Of course you were, Nijima-san. Which is why I feel it best to give you a temporary leave of absence until you can, perhaps, decide which is more important: what is best for the city, or what is best for Sae Nijima.”

Sae was cold with fury. With a wordless snarl, she turned on her heel and left.

 

**Victim 7: Shido**

“How on earth did you even get those files?” asks Makoto breathlessly as she lifts weights while Ryuji spots her.

“You’d be amazed what you can get by hacking into security and traffic cameras,” replies Futaba as she repairs a mobile phone, goggles perched unsteadily on her nose. As ever, she has Yusuke nearby, ‘to help’, though Yusuke’s help is usually just making sure nobody bothered her. His sword is in a low slung belt these days, and there is a hint of a tattoo peeking out around his collarbones.

The cat is definitely bigger, it isn’t just Akira’s imagination, he is sure of it. Reasonably.

Akira is lying on his bed with his head resting on Haru’s lap. She is fussing over his hair, tying little braids in it. While visually she remains virtually unchanged, there is something in the edge of her smile, the flutter of her eyelashes, that speaks of a dark kind of bloodlust. It is interesting.

Ann sits on the floor beside them, where Akira idly winds his fingers through her hair and she makes an odd, almost purring sound.

“Who next?” says Ryuji, admiring Makoto with a grim smile, which she returns.

“Akechi?” suggests Haru, finishing one braid and starting another.

“I’d much rather get rid of that asshole politician Shido,” purrs Ann.

“If it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t be here,” replies Akira lazily.

“Ah, so we owe him one,” says Yusuke, “Let’s repay him, shall we?”

“In the most artistic way possible, of course, Yusuke,” teases Haru.

“Naturally, Haru-sempai,” says Yusuke gravely, making her giggle.

“Artistry…” replies Akira thoughtfully, “You know, Yusuke, it’s such a shame that nobody outside of the police has had a chance to really _appreciate_ our artistry, don’t you think?”

Yusuke looks at him, a gleam in his eye, and what twists is his mouth is not a smile.

“We shouldn’t be so greedy,” says Haru solemnly, “Our art is a wondrous thing.”

“You read my mind, Haru dear,” says Akira, “We should _share_ our art with _all_ the citizens of Tokyo. In fact...Futaba?”

“Yes, Chief?” says Futaba, not looking away from her work.

“Could you arrange for our next work to be shared...with the _world_?”

Futaba lifts her goggles and grins.

 

**vii. Pride**

Sae Nijima felt as if she was walking through a dream, dazed and confused, and had felt that way since being relieved of duty by the Director. She sat in her living room, wearing only a shirt, confused and vague, until thunder broke through her thoughts.

The thunder was someone pounding on the door - and that someone was Goro, eyes wild.

“ _Akechi_!” she hissed, “You can’t be here!”

“Forget that!” he snarled back, “Turn on your TV!”

“What channel?” she asked as he stormed through.

“ _EVERY CHANNEL_!” he yelled, and slammed the on button.

“I am guilty...of rape. Multiple times. Of...of...of corruption. Of murder by association. Of... _please, please don’t kill me_.”

Candidate Shido was on his knees in the video. A voice, scrambled, replied _that decision is not up to you._

“I am guilty of...manipulation. Fraud. Of…”

_you still have not listed your greatest error._

“My...my greatest error?”

_your sin...is pride._

The screen briefly scrambled, and then reformed to show the words:

_Prime Ministerial Candidate Shido is guilty of the sin of Pride, of daring to think he was higher than Justice. No man is higher than Justice, as we have proven._

And then…

And then…

Sae sat down heavily.

Shido was shown, slumped at the doors of the Supreme Court. A single bulletwound showed in his head. His heart had been removed and placed, with a knife, in the doors of the Supreme Court. On either side of him, in his blood, was written:

_We will always stand for Justice._

_Signed, the Phantom Thieves of Heart._

“They’ve won,” whispered Sae.

“Yes,” replied Goro, “They’ve won.”

 

**Coda**

Following the death and revelations regarding Masayoshi Shido, the charges against Akira were dropped, and he was allowed to return home.

He did not.

He, and all his friends, dropped out of school promptly. If the dark mutterings that followed this bothered them, they never worried, and they never reached their ears.

He’s a tall, handsome man now, is Akira. He wears ash-gray waistcoats, that Yusuke does up for him neatly and straightens. If he’s going out, he’ll wear a trench coat, sometimes, or sometimes an old-fashioned morning coat; in the club the seven own and live in, he is ruler, and often lurks in the shadows, always smiling the same, grim smile he always smiles.

Ann wears tight red leather, or long, slinky red dresses - always red, because it’s Akira’s favorite color on her. She’s stopped wearing her hair in pigtails now. Now she gathers it in an elegant bun at the back of her head; or, rather, Haru gathers it in a bun for her. She’s often at Akira’s side, a tiny smile on her face.

Ryuji’s usually by the door, grim and stoic and unsmiling. His hair remains bleached - the better to stand out, and in the summer, when it’s too hot to wear his full leathers, he instead settles with just a single tight black shirt, showing off the intricate tattoos of lightning and pirates and stormclouds that Yusuke designed for him that run the length of both arms. He is often the first to spot trouble, and the first to deal with it.

Yusuke sits behind Ann and Akira, where no one can spot him. He is a rumored shadow; a voice in the dark, and sometimes the knife, too. In his adulthood, he has become so whipcord lean that his cheekbones stand out harshly. He smiles only when one of the group smiles at him, and sometimes not even then.

Makoto often sits at the bar, in full black. Her face is unfriendly and unwelcoming. She is their second line of defence. She will smoke a cigarette, and watch. On days when the club is shut, she and Ryuji will exercise together, and if sometimes the exercise turns...interesting, nobody comments. She has not spoken to her sister in years.

Futaba is never at the bar. She sits in the back. Sometimes Yusuke joins her, sometimes Haru, sometimes, when he can get away Akira. They are the only three she trusts not to crowd her. She makes beautiful pieces of hardware, writes impregnable software, and keeps them safe. She scans the footage of nights gone by, and finds traces of people acting suspicious, and most of all, she makes sure the police haven’t found them. She is the only one who maintains a family outside; with Sojiro, who the team all still love like a father. If Sojiro knows what they have done and become, he has not said, but Futaba knows the lines that edge his mouth get deeper every time another member of the team visits.

Haru is behind the bar. She is their courtly face, their gentle savior. It is only the occasional dropped hint that makes patrons shiver, and the fact that while she dresses in pink, her lips are always blood red. If it bothers her, that they killed her father, it hasn’t shown in ten years. There are rumors that she keeps bladed weapons beneath the bar, to deal with trouble; the rumors, unusually, are accurate. The weapons are well-weathered, and well-loved.

They are safe here; they are loved, and love one another. If they think, about the lives they killed, or the wrecks of lives they made, it does not appear, ever, to bother them.

But then, that is something for normal people to consider.

Occasionally, a cat will walk into the bar. It is not a normal cat; it is to cats what wolves are to dogs; huge, hungry and slavering, and it will prowl up to where Akira sits with Ann, and he will stroke it’s ears as if it were a pussycat, look into the air, and remember the boy he used to be, and wonder, perhaps, at what might have been, had they walked a different road.

**Author's Note:**

> Got back into P5 over Christmas, and have been using it as a way to wind down before the big editing slog of the next two months starts up. I might add more stories to this AU - for instance, I'm rather frustrated I didn't have room to go into the Conspiracy at all including how that affected Futaba, or all the ways Futaba in this universe is different from in P5.
> 
> If there's interest, I might do a series of shorter fics, and maybe, if I have the time and inclination, a longer fic, but we'll see.
> 
> Also, to Morgana fans, sorry he's not really here - I love the little weirdo too, but he really wouldn't fit in this kinda fic.


End file.
